Of Mutants and Mishaps
by CaileeChaos
Summary: Of Mutants and Mishaps, or a Perfectly Odd Little Family. A collection of drabbles from various prompts all centered around the X-Men First Class crew. Features lots of Cherik and domestic X-Men, the Alex/Sean bromance, and all kinds of fluffy goodness. Drabbles will be added in new chapters sporadically as I come across new prompts/am inspired by my muses. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, my lovelies. This is my first official foray into the world of our lovely X-Men. Been a fan since the original trilogy, but all the teasers on Brian Singers Insta/FB have gotten my muses going. And thus this was born. It's a collection of drabbles from various prompts with varying rules all centered around the X-Men First Class crew. Features lots of Cherik and domestic X-Men, the Alex/Sean bromance, and all kinds of fluffy goodness.**

 **I hope you enjoy, my dears!**

* * *

Title: Terms of Endearment

Prompt: Adorable Cherik Fluff

Pairing(s): Cherik

Features: Charles and Erik

Word Count: 100

 **Terms of Endearment**

He had called Charles adorable. Technically, he had called the telepath an "adorable lab rat," but adorable nonetheless. The ease with which the endearment rolled off his tongue, the way he said it without having to think about it, the warmth of teasing Charles – it should have concerned him, or in the very least, surprised him. But it didn't. Because though the two mutants had known each other but a few short days, Erik knew Charles never quite smiled at anyone else the way that Charles smiled at him, and Charles knew Erik had never had a closer friend.

* * *

Title: House Rules

Prompt: The kids keep running in on Erik and Charles having sex at the X mansion.

Pairing(s): Cherik

Features: Charles, Erik, Alex, Sean, & Hank

Word Count: 100

 **House Rules**

The boys were implementing some house rules after a few unfortunate mishaps with Charles and Erik.

First rule: "When you two are alone, just lock the damn door." Because one time Sean went to grab a soda in the kitchen and got an eyeful. "Damn my near-perfect vision."

Second rule: "No dudes within earshot." Because one time Alex was startled awake by Charles' screaming and Erik's dirty mouth. "Fuckin' gross."

Last rule: "Please, just _don't_ if I'm on the same floor of the house." Because of _every. single. time_. Apparently, Hank's new "Beast" abilities included heightened senses. "I beg you."

* * *

Title: Sorry-I-Almost-Killed-You Flowers

Prompt: Erik's and Charles's first reunion after the events at the beach in Cuba.

Pairing(s): Cherik

Features: Charles and Erik

Word Count: 500

 **Sorry-I-Almost-Killed-You Flowers**

"They're the best I can do." He dropped the bundle unceremoniously onto the hospital bed, not quite able to look Charles in the eye, who had been stunned silent the moment Erik appeared in the doorway. "Whatever that counts for. 'Sorry I almost killed you, have some fucking flowers.' Because nothing makes up for it, does it?"

Erik finally found the courage to gaze into those stunning blue eyes. "And nothing ever will."

His jaw clenched, and he had to swallow or clear his throat or do something other than stare at the sheer shock on Charles' face. Was it really such a surprise that Erik had returned? Like he'd had a choice in the matter. He hadn't been able to get the telepath off his mind since he left that damn beach. Every little thing reminded him of Charles throughout the day, and to sleep was even worse.

Every night, it was the same dream. Charles peering up at him full of sadness and betrayal. His shaking hands cradling Charles' head in the sand. The back of Charles' neck slick with sweat, little wisps of hair curling around Erik's fingers. _"I'm sorry, my friend..."_ Charles had said, and just what the hell did Charles have to be sorry for? It was _his_ fault that Charles was now paralyzed.

 _His_ fault, and Charles had apologized—and it had damn near killed Erik to hear it.

Then, there was Raven. He could hardly stand to look at Charles' adopted sister anymore. Which only caused her to gaze at him like a wounded puppy. Which only reminded him of Charles even more.

"T-thank you. They're lovely." Charles lifted the flowers to his nose.

"Don't fucking thank me for the flowers, Charles," Erik growled. "And don't-" He broke off in a huff. "I didn't—I shouldn't have left you there. Charles, I was...lost. _Killing Shaw,_ it-"

"I know," said Charles softly. And he did know. He always knew with Erik—without ever having to use his gift. "I know, my friend."

"Are we friends, Charles? We want different things, after all."

The corners of Charles' lips lifted into a soft smile. "I'm not sure we do, Erik." The gentle, teasing note in the telepath's voice broke him. With a strangled laugh, Erik closed his eyes and was consumed by guilt and regret. "I just wanted you by my side. We were supposed to be in this together. You and I-"

"Fighting the good fight?" Charles grinned. "I'm afraid I won't be doing much fighting anymore."

Erik's heart thumped. Suddenly, his feet carried him to Charles' side. He rested his hand delicately on the bed-rail near the telepath's. Erik tapped his long fingers, brushing their tips along the tender inside of Charles' wrist. "Then, I shall fight for you."

The telepath lifted his hand to Erik's. Pale fingers wrapped around his own, and Charles gave an affectionate squeeze. "And if I don't want you to fight anymore?"

A smirk twisted Erik's lips. "Tough...I'll always fight for you."

* * *

Title: This Isn't My Bed

Prompt: The character gets drunk and mistakenly goes to sleep in someone else's bed. Leads to funny/sexy times.

Pairing(s): Cherik

Features: Charles and Erik

Word Count: 500

 **This Isn't My Bed**

He polished off the beer, the brew sliding over his tongue and down his throat, before he chunked the bottle in the recycling bin – Charles insisted they do their part. It had been such a grueling day. Honestly, teenagers were _exhausting_. And Erik wanted nothing more than to pass out at the moment.

He took the stairs two at a time navigating the maze that was the Xavier Mansion until he came to the long hallway where his and Charles' rooms were located—all the while cursing the ridiculous size of his friend's home. "Bloody half-mile trek... _such_ hardship...couldn't possibly have..."

The light was off in his room, and Erik didn't notice the shoes in front of the door until he was tripping over them and falling on his face. He let out a surprised gasp, and then grunted as he collided painfully with the hardwood floor, all awkward elbows and knees, squishing the shoe with his nose and cheek. "Bleeding _hell_ ," he growled, shoving the damned thing out of his way. "I didn't leave that there..."

A sudden rustling caught the mutant's attention. His head whipped up toward the source of the noise, and very quickly, Erik was on his feet. "Who's there?"

An incoherent moaning rose in response to his question, and Erik used his mutation to pull down the chord of every lamp in his bedroom. As he suspected, there _was_ someone in his private quarters – and that someone was Charles Xavier.

The telepath was sprawled diagonally across Erik's bed, feet dangling off the corner furthest from Erik, face smushed and scrunched against Erik's pillow. And he was shirtless. "Oi, Raven, turn off the lights, yeah?" the Brit grumbled, fingers fisting in the bed sheets.

Erik couldn't have been more surprised if Sebastian Shaw had turned himself over to the United States government. He couldn't stop the barking laugh that tore from his throat. The raucous chuckle was enough to jolt Charles awake. The telepath yanked his head off the pillow, wincing in the light. "E-Erik? What...what're you doing n'here?"

"I could asked you the same thing, Charles," the mutant grinned, eyebrows raising saucily. "You know, if you wanted in my bed, all you had to do was ask."

"Your...what?" Propping up on his elbows, Charles surveyed the pillows and headboard, his face drawn in confusion. He sat up at bit further, gaze flickering about the room. Then, he realized, "This isn't my bed."

Erik smirked. "Afraid not."

Wincing in embarrassment, Charles rubbed his eyes with one hand and apologized. "I'm sorry, my friend. It appears I may have had one too many tonight." When Erik raised his brow, the telepath looked properly abashed, adding, "Alright, a _few_ too many, and stumbled into the wrong room."

"I'll say."

"Right," Charles flushed a delightful shade of pink. "I'll, uh, I'll just be going then. Do you...see my shirt?"

"You know, you're welcome to stay," Erik flashed a suggestive smirk, kicking off his shoes. "Don't leave on my account."

* * *

Title: Mr. Whiskers' Big Win

Prompt: Domestic fluff in which Erik finds a scraggly, abandoned cat and can relate to being alone and unloved. He was saved by Charles, so he decides to save the cat, and the X kids love it. Only Charles is allergic.

Pairing(s): Cherik

Features: Charles, Erik, Raven, Alex, & Sean

Word Count: 500

 **Mr. Whiskers' Big Win**

It was noted that the mansion's stock of vanilla-bean ice cream had been depleted via Sean's ear-splitting, window-shaking screech at exactly 10:43 a.m. that morning.

Charles groaned, hand paused mid-flip as he shuffled a stack of paperwork. "Not again. Erik, would you please?"

Erik frowned. "Send the kid. Banshee can go if he wants his ruddy ice cream so terribly."

"Right," Charles laughed. "Send Sean. With the cheques."

And so Erik begrudgingly wound up at Cosco at 11:00 a.m. in search of Sean's not-so-guilty pleasure.

Returning to the mansion an hour later, Erik carried a small animal crate and a large paper sack. He dropped the bag on the foyer floor, kneeling to open the crate as Raven skirted by. "Oooh, what's that?"

Flashing a brilliant grin, Erik politely informed her that he had "found a friend." He released the crate door and out slunk the skinniest cat Raven had ever seen. The orange feline meowed and stretched, and Raven fell in love instantly, squealing and collapsing to her knees to stroke the kitty atop it's round head. "It's so cute, Erik! But the poor thing looks like it's never been fed."

" _He_. He's a boy," Erik said. He gestured the brown bag. "I got him plenty of food. And a few playthings."

"Erik! I had no idea you were such an animal lover."

"M'not really, but the little fucker wouldn't stop following me in the car park. And you're right, he's bloody starved. And well...even _I'm_ not that heartless."

"Charles is going to _die_."

"Really?" Erik's grin grew a little wider. Raven snickered, "Oh, yeah. Charles-"

The professor appeared at the top of the stairs. "Charles what?" the telepath asked before his nose scrunched, and he sneezed harshly. "Apologies." Another sneeze. "Huh. Must be those dusty, old books I'm always buried under."

Erik smirked as he was suddenly flooded with images of Charles buried under all sorts of things, namely _himself_.

"Or it could be..." Raven began, gazing down at the scraggly kitten. Charles gave a third, quite violent sneeze, and a comical mixture of horror and realization dawned on Erik's face, "Oh, _no_."

Charles came to a violent halt midway down the staircase. " _What_ the bloody hell is _that_?"

"That's Mr. Whiskers," Raven chimed cheerfully. "Erik found him."

"His name is _not_ Mr. Whiskers." Erik corrected, then looked at Charles sheepishly. "I didn't know you were allergic."

"Hey, cool cat," Alex murmured as he and Sean strolled through the foyer. Charles was quick to correct the young mutant, "That is no _cat_ , Alex. That is a-a-" Sneeze. "-a bloody hell beast!"

"Did'ja get the ice cream?" Sean asked, completely unfazed by what would eventually be referred to as the cat-fiasco of '64.

Erik stiffened and didn't answer.

Sean cursed.

Mr. Whiskers—fuck, his name was not Mr. Whiskers—coiled through Erik's legs, nuzzling his knee appreciatively. Erik stroked behind the cat's ears, smirking. "So I picked up a hell beast instead of getting groceries. Sue me."

Charles frowned and sneezed.

* * *

Title: I Don't Want a Bloody Cocktail

Prompt: Charles gets jealous. Cherik.

Pairing(s): Cherik

Features: Charles and Erik

Word Count: 500

 **I Don't Want a Bloody Cocktail**

They had to do a bit of waiting at the upscale gentleman's club before they met with the lovely mutant named Angel. She was preoccupied with clients, so Charles and Erik lounged at a plush, round table in the back corner. Charles sipped on cocktails, Erik had a few Gin Rickeys, and gradually, an hour passed.

When they finally slipped over to the bar and coaxed Angel into a private room, Erik charmed her with his ability and she delighted them with hers. The days' cocktails held Charles to that bed, his legs saddled along side Erik's. The cocktails loosened his tongue when he cheekily asked the young female mutant a question about jobs and clothes, and they influenced his good judgment when Erik snickered and flashed Charles a brilliant grin that really made Charles want to peek into Erik's mind and see just why Erik always smiled so wide.

After Angel had agreed to serve their cause, Erik suggested that he and Charles not leave the club so soon, but linger a while longer and enjoy the view. Charles, warmed by his drinks, had laughed and weakly protested, eyes flickering about the room at all the scantily clad women who, by God, _really_ knew how to dance. Then, he and Erik were back at their table and Charles waved over a server to take another drink order.

The server approached, one of two male employees in the entire joint. And when the male server grinned like a fox at Erik, repeating their order in a too-teasing, too-familiar tone, Charles realized with a start that the exotic female dancers weren't the view to which Erik had been referring at all.

Suddenly filled with an indignant rage, Charles bolted from their table, nearly knocking over two chairs and a lamp. Erik became alarmed. "Charles, what's the matter? Aren't you going to finish your cocktail?"

Charles glared at Erik and his stupid male server. "I don't want a bloody cocktail!"

He stormed out of the gentleman's club.

Erik followed immediately, seizing Charles by the elbow just as he reached the door of the club. "What's the matter, Charles? What happened?"

"I didn't know you were..." Charles tore off angrily.

 _Homosexual._ The word hung between them.

Erik raised a smooth, calculated brow, "I didn't know it matter."

"Of course, it matters! I mean, it doesn't, but..." Erik's every thought came at him all at once. Charles felt the sting and betrayal, felt Erik locking down and shutting him out, and very abruptly, Charles felt sober and silly. Blushing, he looked at his shoes. "...he wasn't all that attractive, you know."

Charles felt Erik's confusion, and then, his eventual understanding. But Charles couldn't look at him.

"No? You don't think so?" There was a lightness in Erik's voice, a gentle teasing, and Charles caught the happy warmth smolder inside Erik's chest, and fuck if Charles didn't love being a telepath when Erik grinned and thought, _Well enough. I have a thing for brunettes, anyhow._

* * *

Title: Angel Wings

Prompt: Charles decides to do a little baking. Erik decides to interupt. Turns into fluffy goodness with flour-covered noses and cute aprons.

Pairing(s): Cherik

Features: Charles and Erik

Word Count: 500

 **Angel Wings**

It was the smell of them that brought his steps to a halt outside of the kitchen. He sniffed again, surely mistaken, but stepped inside to check – just in case. It was Charles who was cooking that day, and at the sound of the door, the telepath spun around, eyes growing wide. "Erik! What're you doing here? You aren't due home until three."

Stunned, Erik couldn't reply, but laughed and grinned. The sight of Charles in a cook's apron, oven mitt on his left hand, a dust of white powder on his nose and across his cheek, was simply too much for Erik to handle. Christ, Charles was adorable.

"I didn't know you cook."

Charles flushed pink. "I don't. At least not well, I'm afraid."

"What are you making, Charles?"

The tone in Erik's voice was enough to tell Charles that the mutant was suspicious. That the jig was up. Charles' blush deepened, and he flashed Erik an embarrassed glance. He turned back to the stove, grabbing the pan of cookies. "This was just the test batch. Like I said, I hadn't expected you would return quite so soon and well..."

Erik's chest tightened. He very suddenly found it difficult to breathe yet somehow managed to force out the question: "Charles, what are those?"

"Um, well, they're supposed to be Chrusciki, or-"

"Angel Wings," Erik whispered. The sight of the fried, golden pastries coated lightly with confectioner's sugar made Erik's gaze sting. He swallowed, took a slow breath, and lifted one of the cookies from the tray. He examined it with moist eyes and told Charles, "My mother...she used to make these for me and my schoolmates every Hanukkah...they made us feel like men because she always made them with brandy."

Charles watched his friend stare wistfully at the Polish pastry. There were few things in life that Charles enjoyed more than the sight of Erik when he reflected on the good memories that remained of his mother. They possessed Erik, filled him with some otherworldliness, some great warmth, like magic. And then the memory would pass and world-weary Erik would return, and Charles would love him all the same.

After a moment passed, Charles spoke softly, "You're welcome to try them, but I doubt they'll be very good."

Erik met Charles' gaze. There were truly no words to describe his feelings for Charles at present. But that was the great thing about Charles – he had no need for words. Erik could feel Charles in his mind – the telepath always let Erik know when he was in his head – and Erik summoned together the emotions swirling inside of him and pushed them hard against Charles' mind. Erik smiled fondly, gratefully at his dear friend, "Thank you, brother. You did not have to do this."

"I know." Charles' lips rose in a gentle smile. "I wanted to."

Erik brushed the bits of powdered sugar from Charles' nose and cheek tenderly.

He took a bite of the Chrusciki.

* * *

 **Drabbles will be added in new chapters sporadically as I come across new prompts/am inspired by my muses.**

 **Hope you've enjoyed.**


	2. Chapter 2

Title: A Dressing Room and an Orange Julius

Prompt: Something about an Orange Julius.

Pairing(s); Cherik

Features: Charles, Erik, Raven, Alex, Sean, & Hank

Word Count: 500

 **A Dressing Room and an Orange Julius**

Alex and Sean were going to kill the professor. Erik, too.

The day had started innocently enough. Raven had insisted upon a team bonding day at the local shopping mall, and though the men had been less than enthusiastic, Charles was never one to deny his sister. The group juiced up on smoothies together at the Orange Julius in the food court before Charles and Erik excused themselves. Once their leaders disappeared, the group split, Alex and Sean heading to the arcade, Raven and Hank disappearing into the bookstore, and so much for team bonding.

When the mall began to close four hours later, the teenagers met at the previously agreed upon rendezvous spot, but the adults were nowhere to be found. They split up once more to search for Charles and Erik, all screaming for the telepath with their thoughts, but it was one-hundred percent radio silence.

Apparently, when their fearless leaders left the food court, they stumbled around the mall all flirting and hand-holding and stolen kisses in an unhealthy and inappropriate amount of PDA only to end up necking in a department store dressing room like a couple of horny teenagers. Eventually, the make-out session got even further out of hand until they were unabashedly going at it.

When Charles and Erik had sex, the euphoria and ecstasy of the moment, the gloriousness of making love to Erik, the hot and heavy pant-inducing fucking, made Charles' telepathy go a little extremely haywire. He focused in on Erik's mind until the two became one and the rest of the world was blocked out. And so, lost in Erik's being, Charles hadn't heard the teenagers' pleas.

When Charles and Erik eventually emerged from the dressing room, sated and grinning, they were stunned to find the department store empty. That's when Charles felt for the children and realized what they'd done. Horrified and embarrassed beyond belief, a scarlet-faced Charles quickly relayed the situation to Erik who promptly barked out a laugh and clapped Charles on the back. "Now that's what I call a proper shag."

"They're murderous, Erik. How am I supposed to explain this to them? I can't-oh _God_ , Raven. I could never look her in the eye again!"

In the end, Erik ended up dealing with the group's rage—a feeling he knew all too well. He concocted a quick excuse and told the children that it had all been part of training. He and Charles were testing them to see how they would handle themselves in a situation on their own. And they had failed miserably.

"Honestly, sitting in the food court whining about your lives. What ruddy good does that do? Charles and I won't always be there. You should have put your heads together! Figured a way out of this place!"

But Alex and Sean knew better.

And that's how the X-Men got trapped in a public shopping mall.

Trapped, Alex thought, at least until Magneto zipped up his pants and opened the fucking doors.

* * *

Title: Jackson Hole Mountain Ski Resort

Prompt: Write an entire scene using only dialogue.

Pairing(s); Cherik

Features: Charles and Erik

Word Count: 500

 **Jackson Hole Mountain Ski Resort**

"Christ, this is high. We are so high! If we fall right now, our bones will shatter instantly upon impact with the earth. Blimey, Erik, it's _so high_. It's not natural for man to be suspended so far above the ground."

"Eh. S'not so bad, really."

"Ha! That's easy for you to say. You can fly!"

"Would you call it flying? I always thought of it more as levitating."

"I can't believe I'm doing this. I can't believe I'm doing this...I-"

"Can't believe you're doing this. Yes, Charles, I heard you the first seventy times."

"This is no time for snark, Erik! We are approximately three hundred feet in the air, and well over two thousand feet above sea level, about to jump onto the side of a bloody mountain in a snow storm!"

"Snow storm? Don't you think that's a bit of an exaggeration?"

"Look around, Erik!"

"It's a mild flurry at best. Besides, that's what the goggles are for."

"I'm going to die."

"Oh, stop being so dramatic, Charles."

"The fall alone! God, I can't. I can't jump. I—no, I refuse. The fall is simply too long. And won't the impact – what with the ground being packed with snow – snap our bloody ankles in half?"

"Not if you land properly. The way the instructor showed you."

"This is all your fault. I cannot believe I let you talk me into this. This is madness. Complete and utter madness. If we die-"

"Honestly, Charles, I had no idea you were capable of such cliched dramatics."

"-we have responsibilities, you know. Who will take care of the children? What will become of Raven? Hank? What will they-"

"They're hardly children anymore. Havok and Banshee will receive their bachelor's in the spring, Mystique is doing excellent in her classes, and well, Beast already acts thirty-seven-"

"My _God_! What was that?! I'm fairly positive it's not supposed to do that! _Erik_! Make. It. Stop!"

"It's just the wind, Charles..."

"The _wind_?"

"Mhmm."

"Erik, make it stop swinging, won't you?"

"Better?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Are you going to be alright? You look a bit faint. Not going to pass out on me, are you?"

"That remains to be seen."

"The jump is just up ahead. Now remember, Charles, put both of your ski poles in this hand so you can push off of the armrest with the other."

"Both poles. One hand. Got it. Bloody hell, Erik, I can't do this."

"When we stand, let the back of the lift press against your legs. It'll help you balance and help you push off. It's important to make sure your ski tips are pointed skyward. Otherwise, when we hit, they'll get caught and trip you up."

"Don't trip. Yes, I think I've got that. Thank you, Erik."

"And Charles?"

"Yes, Erik?"

"The most important to thing to remember is that no matter what, I'll catch you."

"Who's the one for the cliches now?"

"Shut up."

"Is that the-?"

"Yes. Jump!"

"Jump?"

" _Jump_!"

* * *

Title: Fortune Cookie

Prompt: "Hey, I'm just doing what the fortune cookie said. Who am I to stand in the way of fate?"

Pairing(s); Alex/Sean bromance, squinty Raven/Hank

Features: Raven, Alex, Sean, & Hank

Word Count: 500

 **Fortune Cookie**

"One, two, _three_!" A series of satisfied crunches sounded in succession. The teenagers were quiet for a moment as they inspected their fortunes, their collective chewing the only sound in the den."Oooh," Raven eventually grinned, pleased with her results. "' _All your hard work will soon pay off_.' Hmm. What does your's say, Alex?"

The blonde lifted the white slip of paper and frowned. "' _Do not sleep in tomorrow as the day will be full of opportunities._ ' Yeah. Whatever."

"Well, it certainly knows you," Hank smirked. Alex's brow straightened into a glare, "I work out every morning at 5:00a.m. for your information, _Beast_."

"It's true. He does." Sean backed up his best friend. Polishing off his sesame chicken, the ginger read the slip from his fortune cookie. "' _Good luck and fortune will follow wherever you go. Do not be afraid to let good things happen._ ' Huh. Hear that? I'm gonna get lucky."

The others rolled their eyes at Sean's shit-eating grin and raised eyebrows. Alex scoffed at his best friend. "That doesn't mean you're gonna get laid."

"Hey, you never know." The redhead released a deep-bellied belch. "God, I love Chinese food."

Raven's nose wrinkled in repulsion. "You're disgusting."

Two days later, Charles sent Raven on a grocery run and Sean, bored now that his classes at university were over and having absolutely zero luck when it came to finding a summer job, decided to tag along just to get away from the mansion. It was a quick shopping excursion – Raven was highly efficient – and on the way back to the car, something on the asphalt caught Sean's gaze.

There, right in front of the shopping cart return, was a brown leather wallet. "Ha!" Sean whooped, snatching up the worn billfold. He opened the creased fold and thumbed through the wallet's contents, his face splitting in a toothy grin. "Must be my lucky day."

Raven rolled her eyes and pulled their shopping cart to a halt. She began to turn around. "Come on. We'll go back inside to return it. Someone's going to come back looking for that."

"What? No way. There's at least seventy bucks in here and a half-off coupon for Shakey's Pizza Parlor. Besides, there's no I.D., no business card. If I turn it in, anybody could claim it. So, why not me? I mean, for all I know, this thing just fell outta the sky. Like it's _meant_ for me."

Raven shook her head, a little blonde curl falling into her face. "It's not right. Charles wouldn't want you to keep it."

Her words were meant to inspire some greater sense of morality in the redheaded mutant, or at the very least strike fear into his heart. But Sean knew that despite her threat, Raven would never tattle to Charles, so he just flashed his pearly white grin and stuffed the wallet in his back pocket. "Hey, I'm just doing what the fortune cookie said. Who am I to stand in the way of fate?"

* * *

Title: Revenge, or Inflicting Harm for Wrongs Suffered

Prompt: An escalation of pranks including itching powder and male escorts. Hilarity ensues.

Pairing(s); squinty Cherik

Features: Charlies, Erik, Raven, Alex, Sean, & Hank

Word Count: 1,000

 **Revenge, or Inflicting Harm for Wrongs Suffered**

There was little planning involved. Growing up with three older brothers and five rowdy cousins, Sean was a natural in the prank business. He took things slow in the beginning. A little itching powder on Erik's toilet paper, cutting "moth holes" in Erik's shirts and sweaters, tearing out the bottom of Erik's pants' pockets... It was a slow game he was playing, one meant to make Erik go crazy mad, and if the metal bender's generally irritable mood of late was any indication, Sean was succeeding.

After about three weeks, Sean upped his game. Whenever Erik would set something down – a cup of tea, a book, a pen – Sean would move it just so, or set it on Erik's other side. He began taking the left shoe of every pair that Erik owned until the mutant's closet consisted of only right shoes. He stole a syringe from Hank's lab and injected hot sauce into Erik's food when he wasn't looking. He stashed sushi in the air vent in Erik's room – the smell was fatal after just two days, and Erik destroyed his room searching for the source of the stench. Then, to top off the month of pranks, Sean placed an advertisement in a few local newspapers for a premium male escort service under Erik's number.

Six hours after the ad was published, Erik shattered his phone out of pure rage.

Yeah, Sean was a natural in the prank business.

After that, Erik and the others began to grow suspicious regarding Erik's unfortunate string of bad luck. Sean had to carefully guard his thoughts around the professor, and the redheaded mutant knew he couldn't keep the gag up for much longer, deciding to finish his prank assault in style.

"Hey," he smirked to himself as he set up the final stages of his grand finale. "Go big or go home."

Sean grinned devilishly at his handiwork and joined his friends in the game-room downstairs. Now, all he had to do was wait and enjoy.

~xXx~

Erik concluded his workout with another fifty push-ups, swiped a towel across his sweaty face, and slunk off toward the bathroom. His body ached with a familiar pleasure, his muscles loose and yet tight all at once. He hadn't had a work out that good in ages. His shower steaming hot, Erik bathed himself slowly, washing away the day's filth before washing his hair. He scrubbed his scalp, and as he rinsed his hair, Erik was quit alarmed by the bright blue ribbons running down is chest. "Wha...?"

He brought his hands to his face to examine the blue liquid, finding that his palms and fingers were stained the same blue tint. "What the hell?" he growled, snatching his shampoo bottle off the shelf. The bottle dripped bright blue and smelled of chemicals. " _Fucking hell_."

Slamming off the water, Erik yanked back the shower curtain and screamed as if he were on fire. For weeks, he had thought he was losing his mind. That he was going mad. The missing shoes. The misplaced books and car keys. The foul stench. Charles and the others had assured him that he was simply having a bad spell, but he had _known_ , and now he had fucking _proof_.

Downstairs, the doorbell rang.

Storming out of the shower, Erik made it all of two steps before he slipped and crashed to the floor. " _Ugh_ ," he groaned, fighting the floor – slick with some oil of sorts – attempting to scramble to his feet. He reached for the doorknob to give him leverage only to jerk away in disgust at the minty goo now covering his fingertips. The handle had been coated in toothpaste. "Mother _fuck_."

The doorbell rang again.

Slipping all the while, Erik managed to pull himself up using the sink and snagged a towel off the rack. Grumbling angrily to himself, he hastily swathed his waist and winced when the doorbell rang once more. "Will someone get _the damned door!_ "

The ringing continued as Erik stomped downstairs. Apparently, no one else was going to answer the damn thing, and if that ruddy ringing didn't stop, he was going to explode. Erik – in his towel, bruised from his fall, with slick skin and fluorescent blue hair, all red-faced and furious – wrenched open the door and bellowed, " _What_?!"

"Mr. Lensherr?"

"Oh, bleeding hell."

Two Jehovah's Witnesses stood on the stoop, Bibles in hand. They poorly concealed their surprise at Erik's current state and forced awkward smiles. "We're from the Kingdom Hall on Groveton. We received your message and are here to talk to you about the word of God."

Erik slammed the door without so much as a second glance.

Giggles and laughter erupted behind him. Erik spun to face the children, their faces pink with amusement at his expense. Then, Alex was all "Nice hair," and before Erik could strangle him, Charles appeared in the foyer. "Good God, Erik, what-"

Hackles rising, Erik ignored his friend in lieu of growling, " _Which one of you is responsible_?"

"Now you couldn't possibly think that one of us...?" Hank looked downright offended, Raven scoffing, "As if we're stupid enough to mess with you."

At this point, the metal bender was seeing red and was two seconds from homicidal, so Charles used his telepathy to calm Erik down, and it wasn't all that different from the night in the water when they first met. Only this time, instead of snatching away from the hand Charles' rested on his shoulder, Erik leaned into it. Suddenly, he felt exhausted. And very naked.

"Yes, perhaps we should put some clothes on," Charles drawled in his ear, a teasing smile playing at the telepath's lips. "Love what you've done with your hair, by the way."

And as Erik and Charles turned to leave, Sean grinned at the couple, finally revealing his sweet revenge. "Hey, you know what this reminds me of? That one time...when you pushed me off that satellite dish-"

" _Banshee_!"

* * *

Title: Midnight Snack

Prompt: Ice cream. Midnight.

Pairing(s); None.

Features: Raven, Alex, Sean, & Hank

Word Count: 1,000

 **Midnight Snack**

It took Sean twelve minutes to find the kitchen. Scratching his mass of tangled curls, he pushed the swinging door open to find Raven sitting at the table, a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream in one hand, a spoon in the other. On the table in front of her were three other spoons. Sean felt a lazy smile tug at his mouth. He swaggered forward, moving around the table to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, yawning widely. "You expecting someone?"

"Yes," the blonde beauty replied with a small laugh. She took another bite, and then elaborated around a mouthful of ice cream, " _You_."

"Me?" His eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, and Sean gave a shit-eating grin. Raven rolled her eyes at the young, Irish mutant, scoffing, "Not _just_ you. The others, too. They'll be here soon. My first night here, I couldn't sleep either. There's just...something about this place. It's too big."

Sean took the seat across from her and propped his feet on a chair, ankles crossing, his mix-matched green and yellow socks contrasting nicely against the dark furniture and his stock red hair. He slid one of Raven's extra spoons to the edge of the table and pushed it until it teetered off the side. Lifting his hand high, he brought his palm down to slap the spoon. It catapulted into the air, flipped twice, and landed in his lap.

Snickering, Raven slid the ice cream toward her new roommate. "Eat up. It's starting to melt."

Hoisting his spoon like a weapon, Sean conceded with a "Don't mind if I do," before downright assaulting the tub of ice cream. Sean was easily on his way to devouring the entire tub of ice cream when Raven laughed, grinning, "Whoa! Slow down! Save some for Hank and Alex."

Sean conceded her point and surrendered the dessert back over to her. Licking his spoon clean, he began to balance the silver utensil on the very tip of his nose. "So, do you come here often, or...?"

As Charles' little sister had so instinctively predicted, Hank rolled into the kitchen thirty minutes later, his white lab coat and coke-bottle glasses absurdly askew. Raven and Sean met the mad scientist with mirrored grins. Sean wiggled his toes at the young genius. "Late night, Dr. Frankenstein?"

"I, uh, I-" Hank leaned against the counter top, arms crossed awkwardly over his chest. "-wanted to get settled in the lab before we begin testing tomorrow." His voice picked up excitedly as he added, "You know, for a private lab, Charles has a surprisingly sophisticated-"

Sean cut him off with a lazy wave of his freckley, pale hand. "Yeah, yeah, we're sure it's spectacular. Ice cream?"

Raven waggled a spoon in the young genius' direction, sing-songing. "It's mint chocolate chi- _ip_."

Hank's lips pulled into a sheepish, somewhat sleepy half-grin as he took the proffered utensil with surprisingly little protest. Or not surprising, when one considers that said utensil was proffered by the prettiest girl that Hank had ever seen, much less actually talked to.

Alex was the last to stroll in that evening. There were red rings around the teenager's eyes and a crazy tightness in his shoulders. The kitchen stilled when he entered the room, and even Sean seemed to sense the need for delicacy. The redhead said nothing, but kicked out the chair next to his and shot a warm smile at his new friend.

"What are you all doing up?" Alex's voice was raw and oddly authoritative, like an older brother scolding his younger siblings for staying up passed their bedtime. Alex swallowed thickly and stepped back as if to turn and leave. It was Hank who shrugged and said, "It's a new place...adjusting will take some time, but...we don't have to get used to it alone."

The cause of Alex's apparent torment was no mystery. The terrifying image of Darwin's molten face still lingered fresh in all of their minds. It was only the night before, after all, that the teenagers had been cooped up in the CIA's off-sight base and had lost their new friend to the mutant terrorist known as Sebastian Shaw. It had been obvious then, as it was obvious now, that Alex blamed himself for Darwin's death. It was with Alex's gleaming red beams that Shaw had ended Darwin's life, but the other mutants knew that was not Alex's doing. Alex and Darwin had been trying to _help_. They had been trying to protect the others—Raven, Hank, and Sean—and save Angel from making a terrible mistake. It wasn't Alex's fault that Shaw was more powerful than they could ever image, or that Shaw chose to end Darwin's life for taking a stand and fighting against them.

Raven was just glad that Shaw hadn't decided to kill Alex, too. Or kill them all, for that matter.

"Yeah, well," Alex croaked at Hank's verbal olive branch. "You've seen what I can do. Maybe it's better for me to be alone."

Raven frowned softly. "Darwin's death wasn't your fault, Alex. He wouldn't want you to do this to yourself." She slid the last spoon across the table. "Come on. We saved you the last bit."

Alex shuffled his feet. "I don't eat ice cream," he said lamely.

"Everybody eats ice cream!" Sean exclaimed, and even Hank looked baffled. Raven pointed at the final spoon, tilting her chair backwards, her feet dangling delicately above the tiled floor. "You know, I met Charles for the first time in this very room...have a seat and maybe I'll tell you about."

The blonde boy scoffed. "Who says I want to know?"

Three expectant faces peered at him. A beat passed. Feet shuffled. Hank coughed. Sean stifled a giggle. And then Alex sighed and crossed the kitchen, plopping down into the chair like it was the most arduous task he'd ever been mandated in his life. He snatched up the spoon and stole the pint of sugary desert.

"Okay, fine. Talk."

* * *

 **Is it time for** _Apocalypse_ **to come out yet? I'm in desperate need of a Fassbender/McAvoy fix.**

 **Review? Maybe? Pleeeeeeease?**


End file.
